Karen Rose - Silent Scream

Tuesday, September 21, 12:10 a.m.

The garden behind David’s apartment house was his hideaway. The Gorski sisters kept it up beautifully, and for that he cut them a deal on the rent. The seventy-two-year-old identical twins had identical green thumbs and the air was fragrant with the last roses of the season. At least it wasn’t honeysuckle.

Behind him a sliding glass door opened, then closed. A minute later Glenn settled himself in the chair next to him and drew a deep breath. “God bless the Gorskis.”

David lifted his mug of hot tea. “Hear, hear. Did I wake you?”

“Nah. Couldn’t sleep. Saw the light from your laptop.” He gestured to the computer on David’s knee. “You still reading that asshole’s shit?”

David glanced at the Preston Moss speech he’d been rereading. “Somebody copied this guy last night at the condo fire, by design or smoke screen.”

Glenn looked amused. “And you’re playing detective?”

Annoyance prickled because he’d been trying to do exactly that-to understand the motive behind the arson that had killed that young girl. To understand how it had morphed into the cold-blooded murder of the guard. “That, and wondering if these environmentalists would quote Preston Moss after pulling a few dead bodies from a fire,” he said, then shook off his mood. “Did you and my mom have a nice dinner?”

“Yeah, except that Martino flirted with her shamelessly.”

David chuckled at Glenn’s sour tone. “What time did you get her home?”

“A little earlier than you rolled in, Dad. Thought you’d stay out longer.”

David’s smile faded. “Yeah. Well, it didn’t work out that way.”

“Sorry, boy.”

David sighed. “Me too.”

For a while they were silent. “So what did you do to your pretty blond cop?”

David leaned his head back to stare at the stars. “Did you ever mess up, Glenn?”

“With a woman? Time or two,” he said easily. “How bad did you mess up?”

It was something about Glenn, something about the night, or maybe David was just damn desperate for advice. “I, uh, said someone else’s name when we…”

“Oh.” Glenn’s face creased in a prolonged wince. “You didn’t just mess up, boy. You royally fucked up.”

“I got that,” David said dryly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Was the other woman current or past?”

“More like never.” He stared at the sky again. “I believe they call it unrequited love.”

“Ah. Well, that sucks.”

“Indeed it does.”

“So, why did you do it? Say the other woman’s name, I mean.”

“Got drunk on champagne,” David muttered.

“Why’d you do that?”

“It was a wedding. I hate weddings.” But he didn’t get drunk at weddings, no matter how miserable he’d been. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten drunk at Dana’s wedding. So why at Mia’s? Why in front of Olivia? He’d been asking himself that for two and a half years.

“Did your lady cop buy the champagne excuse?”

“No,” he said grimly.

“Didn’t think so. So what are you gonna do?”

“Talk to her again.” He’d promised not to bother her again, but sitting among the Gorski sisters’ roses, he’d decided that was a stupid promise to have made.

Glenn’s gray brows lifted. “Planning to wait another two and a half years for that?”

David huffed a surprised chuckle. “No.”

“You know,” Glenn mused, “I’ve never seen you drink more than one beer.”

“I don’t get drunk,” David said flatly, then amended it. “Hardly ever, anyway.”

“What happened the last time you got drunk? Before the lady cop?”

David closed his eyes. Someone I cared about died. “Something very bad.”

“But you got drunk again that night at the wedding anyway. I think you need to figure out why before you try to smooth things over with your lady cop.”

“I know,” he said. “I just don’t know how.”

“Yeah, you do.” He met David’s eyes. “I’ve watched you for seven months and you don’t sit still, boy. You run all the time, doing for other people. According to your mama, over Martino’s lasagna and a couple of glasses of red wine, that’s the story of your life. St. David, defender of the helpless, fixer of broken stuff.”

David gritted his teeth. Not again. He couldn’t have this conversation again. “There’s nothing wrong with doing for others.”

“There is when it keeps you from facing yourself. You’ve been running from yourself so long, all you see is your own ass. Eventually, that’s all anybody else will see.”

David started to get up. “Good night, Glenn.”

“Sit your ass down, boy,” Glenn snapped, and, rolling his eyes, David obeyed. “Do you care about her?”

David crossed his arms over his chest. “Who?”

Glenn huffed his displeasure. “Your pretty blond cop.”

David pictured the hurt in Olivia’s eyes and his anger abruptly fizzled. “Yes.”

“Why?”

David drew a breath, letting the scent of roses calm him as he considered his answer. “I felt like I’d known her forever the first night I met her. There was something there. I can’t explain it, but it was like… home.”

“Yet, knowing you shouldn’t, you drank too much and said something that hurt her. You wanna know what I think?”

David stole a glance at Glenn’s craggy face. The old guy was staring at him with a mixture of pity and wisdom that he missed so much since his father passed. “Why not?”

“I think you recognized something special and you got scared. You’d been pining for this other woman for so long that being alone had become comfortable.”

“But I don’t like being alone.”

“Didn’t say you liked it. Said you were comfortable. Big difference there. One thing I learned in all the years I was married is that good relationships take time. They take heart. And they take trust. Maybe you didn’t want to give her that.”

David swallowed hard. “How long were you married, Glenn?”

“Almost forty years. Miss her every day. She made my life… good. And a man can’t ask for more than that.” He started for his apartment, but looked back. “Heard buzz on the scanner before I came out. Warehouse fire. Might be arson. Definitely homicide. And they found another glass ball.”

David came to his feet. “They mentioned that glass ball on the scanner?”

“Nah. Your captain’s there, at the scene. He tried to call your cell, but it went to voice mail, so he called me. Asked me to tell you to call him.”

He shoved his hand in his pocket, looking for his cell. Then remembered it was inside his apartment, charging. “Why didn’t you tell me that first thing?”

Glenn shrugged. “Your mama is worried about you, so I wanted to say my piece. Your pretty blond cop will be at the fire scene. Be careful.”

David waited until Glenn had his hand on the back door. “Thank you, old man.”

Glenn looked over his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Don’t fuck it up again.”

Monday, September 20, 11:59 p.m.

Sitting in his easy chair, he reached for the cell he used with Eric when it beeped. There was no message with Eric’s text, only an attachment. It was grainy, but he could see the flames consuming Tomlinson’s warehouse. They’d taken a while before sending it to him, as close to a “fuck you” as they dared. Part of him had to admire their pluck.

you almost missed your deadline. wait for your next assignment.

He closed the phone and went back to his nightly task of combing through his customers’ e-mails, working through potential clients who were ready for first contact. Ah, here was one who was almost ready for the plucking.